


Something Long and Hard to Pronounce

by sloppy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Zine: departure!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 14:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloppy/pseuds/sloppy
Summary: Kurapika awoke with eyes still filmy from deep slumber. He blinked it away until his vision settled, then sat up on the cot without so much a creak. Gon’s patterned curtains filtered light into mesh, leaving small square shadows on Kurapika’s sheets.He had dreamt something good last night, or at least it had felt that way. At waking, the dream had slipped like water through his fingers, but the feeling lingered as though his hands were still slick with the memory.





	Something Long and Hard to Pronounce

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the departure! zine](http://hxhadventures.tumblr.com/) sold a bit ago! I've been sitting on this one for a while, but I'm happy to finally post it somewhere. Thank you again to Kitana for being my beta reader, saving my life one more time.
> 
> The title is describing a goodbye!

Kurapika awoke with eyes still filmy from deep slumber. He blinked it away until his vision settled, then sat up on the cot without so much a creak. Gon’s patterned curtains filtered light into mesh, leaving small square shadows on Kurapika’s sheets.

He had dreamt something good last night, or at least it had felt that way. At waking, the dream had slipped like water through his fingers, but the feeling lingered as though his hands were still slick with the memory.

The other beds were empty.

Downstairs, Leorio was in the kitchen rolling dough in his sleep clothes. His bed head had yet to be combed and his glasses were set on the counter by an open bag of flour. Abe, the great-grandmother and landlady, had assigned him breakfast duty.

“Mornin’,” greeted Leorio through a yawn.

Kurapika smiled. “Good morning.”

Loud footsteps clamored closer until two boys burst into the kitchen, small wrapped packages between them. Killua’s hair was matted down with sweat and Gon’s wifebeater was off-white with stains. Whatever they held bled grease through the wrapping.

Grinning, Killua declared, “First!”

“Was not!”

A rancid smell wafted Kurapika’s way. He lifted his sleeve against his face. “Oh,” he said. Now it was obvious. “Is that fish?”

Leorio paused in his kneading duties to scrunch his nose and say, “Jeez!”

“We were at the docks,” said Gon happily, taking off his muddy boots at the door as an afterthought. “We helped the fishermen reel in their nets!”

Apparently, they’d gotten up before dawn to practice their Nen at the bay and had heard fishermen struggling at their posts. A net had ripped overnight, spilling catch. The boys immediately dove into the water to compete over who could gather the most fish. They were invited onto the boats, after that, where the impressed men taught them how to properly net until the sun rose.

Gon dumped his and Killua’s share of the reward into the sink. “The misters said we could have these. Auntie and Granny love seafood.”

“Bleugh,” Killua said, making a face. Gon turned his oily fingers onto Killua. “Gross!”

They tussled and Kurapika watched, bemused. Neither Gon nor Killua were using their actual strength, but they still pawed at each other with great enthusiasm. Leorio cackled, working at his dough.

There was a door to the side that led out to the stretch of balcony overlooking the western landscape. As though summoned by their ruckus, Gon’s aunt entered the room, a wicker basket against her hip. Mito Freecss let a frown grace her charming face.

“Boys!” she snapped. The kids halted to attention. “What have I said about roughhousing? Killua, you’re tracking dirt into my home! And, oh, Gon—your shirt!”

“Sorry, Auntie,” Gon apologized, his head bowing sheepishly.

She fussed some more, pulling on ears and brushing out their hair. “You’ll take a bath right this instant,” commanded Mito. Killua stuck out his tongue and received a flick on the forehead in return. “Or no sweets all week for you!”

“Tyrant old woman!” cried Killua in outrage, but Gon pulled on his sleeve and led him up the stairs, survival instincts intact.

Mito turned to Leorio and Kurapika when they were gone, and Leorio kept to his duty at the helm of the counter, whistling innocently. She saw Kurapika vulnerable at the side and handed him the hamper in her arms.

“Idle hands,” she said, eyes bright, “make fretful minds.”

Outside, each incoming breeze came airy and light. The hanged laundry whipped in the wind. It was impossible to breathe in a lungful and not feel purified. A second floor window had been propped open and he could hear laughs from inside. Kurapika pinned one of Leorio’s button-ups onto the clothesline, turning the cuffs inside-out.

Everything felt uncomplicated in a way that was almost unnerving. Kurapika had forgotten about the calm that came from security, like a warm blanket that shrouded him whole. Now that he had experienced it, how could he live without it? What would he do if it started to slip away, the same as his dreams had, real until he stopped holding his breath? What if...

Kurapika turned his eyes straight at the tropic sun, looked away, and waited until the shapes in his peripheral faded out into nothingness. “Idle hands,” he muttered to himself, then hauled the next load of clothes beside him. 

 

* * *

  

After the dishes were washed and dried, Mito shooed them out of the house. “Don’t waste the day away,” she warned. Then, to Gon: “The island has missed you.”

It was the sort of vague saying that could have meant anything. But Kurapika understood when they arrived at the edge of the forest and witnessed grass that swallowed their tread marks the further they walked. Plants swayed without wind. A chorus of creatures howled in the distance. Snake Beech Forest was not accustomed to welcoming anyone but the son that had played in it since his very first laugh; Gon was home, so it came alive just for him.

Leorio and Killua splintered off into an unexpected unit, exploring. According to Leorio, the herbs at the base of certain trees were highlighted in his course curriculum and he wanted some hands-on experience with collecting. Killua was intrigued by the idea of poisons to which he was yet immune.

The rich thicket reminded Kurapika of Lukso, just a bit. Much of the wildlife was made up of similar species, if not distant cousins. He mentioned this to Gon in passing, and soon they found themselves engaged in hot pursuit of the same beetles Kurapika had caught with Pairo all those years ago. It was frightfully easy to get sucked into Gon’s pace after enough exposure.

Hours passed, and the boys regrouped at a meadow clearing, far from where they began. By then, it was well past lunch, and Kurapika’s clothes were shamefully sticky from the honeypot Gon had snuck from a nest and shared with him. The other two came back unharmed, save for Leorio’s face, swelling from an allergy Killua’s immaculate genetics had dodged. And despite calling him pitiful, Kurapika allowed Leorio to wallow beside him, shoulder to shoulder, as they waited for Gon to return with the local remedy.

Once Leorio was cured, they hiked the steepest trails up and down and around the sloping hills. Killua plucked berries from bushes for them to snack on along the way. He strayed far enough, at one point, to stumble upon foxbear tracks, and he became too excited to remember why he had been there in the first place.

Gon poked at some leaves with a branch he had broken off from a nearby tree, pushing them away to reveal more paw prints in the earth. He measured the indent with his hand. “That’s a teen cub, almost grown,” he said, nodding his head. “See how there’s only one set? It might be separated from its mother.”

Leorio cast a wary look at Kurapika. The boy’s hand had been dwarfed by the print. If that had been a cub, the adult would be massive.

They discovered the runaway animal after some time, but Gon discouraged them from going near, saying, “The males hate it when they catch other males’ scents on their family!”

“Tell ‘em we return the sentiment.” Leorio pinched his nose. The animal had gifted them traces of its drying scat, letting Gon trail it even through a river and many fields.

None of them, besides Gon, had seen a foxbear up close before. When it mewled, they all kept quiet and listened. The only thing they could do was follow it in the hopes that it wouldn’t come across any trouble. In the end, they sensed the mother coming a mile away, its worry and anger palpable to the birds fleeing above. Gon didn’t have to motion them away once the two reunited; common rules of decency applied even in the wild.

Later, while hopping over the same rocky riverbed they’d crossed previously, Leorio posed a question he seemed to have been mulling over.

“How’d they get separated in the first place, I wonder?”

Gon and Killua had skipped ahead, so this was addressed to Kurapika, who, up until that point, hadn’t even thought of the little foxbear family since they left.

“Does it matter?” he dismissed, not completely unfeeling. There simply wasn’t reason to dwell. “They’re together now.”

“Guess so,” his friend responded, but when Kurapika turned to him Leorio’s eyes were glossed over, lost in his own head, and suddenly the distance felt yards further than the few steps between them. Leorio tacked on, more to himself than anything, “I just... hope it doesn’t happen again.”

Kurapika looked away, facing forward. Having already crossed the river, the younger boys entertained themselves by performing handstands, their laughter running flush atop the rushing water.

“It won’t.”

 

* * *

 

There was a strip of beach perpendicular to the ports, completely uninhabited by the people of the island. Here, they rolled up their trousers and raided the tide pools, examining whatever stray sea slugs and starfishes washed over the rocky surfaces. While Gon and Killua balanced sea urchins on their arms, a family of small crabs latched onto Leorio’s ankle. Kurapika had been grinning until one pinched his toes.

Seashells on Whale Island were one-of-a-kind, colorful and oddly-shaped, as wide as a person’s face. The four sat in a circle on the sand, passing around different shells for every ear, listening to echoes of colossal oceans that existed only in the palms of their hands. “This one,” someone would say. “Try this, too.” It would go on until they heard distant singing even without the shells, their minds making up for the losses in-between trades.

The sun was setting now, a lush pink glow of sky mirroring the sea. Leorio stretched across the sand, limbs akimbo. He was tanned in the face save for where his glasses had shielded. Gon wasn’t faring much better, though his skin took to the heat like any seasoned islander’s might and bronzed him as though that was how he’d emerged from the womb.

Underneath the shade of a palm tree, his back against the trunk, Kurapika rested his eyes. When he opened them again, the others had found various fruits to snack on, infamous appetites rearing. He spotted Killua wetting his feet where the waves met the shore, biting into something resembling a pomegranate. The sky had darkened to purple, its gradient as deep as a day-old bruise.

“We should be getting back for dinner,” Kurapika said, remembering Mito and Abe. “There’s still the fish you brought this morning.”

“That’s right!” Gon cried, face alight. He patted his stomach. “I’m _so_ hungry.” He’d eaten twice as much as the others, but there wasn’t anything to gain from pointing it out.

He had accomplished much more strenuous and taxing activity in his life, and yet the straightforward route back to the house strained Kurapika’s legs. By the time they reached the familiar winding road uphill, exhaustion seeped into his bones.

Abe was drinking tea in the parlor. She offered Kurapika and the others cups they accepted gratefully. That helped a bit with the tiredness, and he was able to join in their back-and-forth banter with revived energy.

Mito came at the eleventh hour. The tea party had devolved into a piping hot Earl Grey chugging race between Gon and Leorio. Abe, an enabling force, refilled two more kettles for the contest at some point. Gon won by default because Leorio complained his tongue was numb and left everyone panicked for a good minute or two.

In the end, Mito exiled all but Kurapika to the bathroom to wash the stench off their bodies. “You can go later,” she said, after Gon accused her of favoritism. “I need at least one kitchen helper tonight.”

She put him in charge of chopping the vegetables. He was slicing a particularly tough tomato when she came over to see how he was coping.

“Now we just need the soup and the main dish,” she said, patting down her apron. She looked up at him and paused, as if seeing him anew. “This is getting a bit long.” Mito examined his hair’s ends, which were somewhat dry and straw-like from the beach wind. “I can trim this for you, if you’d like.”

The day before, she had cut Killua’s overgrown bangs and the boy only complained in half-hearted increments, hiding his blush when she called him handsome. It made Kurapika remember his mother having done the same, setting up just outside their home where everyone in the village could see him squirm. His embarrassment would always fall away as soon as she moved his hair this way and that.

As with his mother, he knew not to deny her. “Only when you have the time,” he said amiably. “Thank you.”

“And your nose is red. Sunburn?” Not even skipping a beat, she said, “There’s aloe vera growing out in the garden. Ground some and apply it before bed.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

She sighed, lowering her gaze. “You boys are too young.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Too young for all of this,” she went on. “If I had my way, I’d have locked Gon in his room and made him promise never to come out the second he mentioned the Exam. I know I’m a selfish woman. Grandmother says that’s where he gets it from. Me and not Ging, can you believe? But I can’t help it! Gon is my baby, and the world out there…”

“It devours,” Kurapika spouted unthinkingly, after thinking and thinking and thinking.

“I suppose it does, doesn’t it? But what a face you’re making!” Laughing, Mito proceeded to teach him the proper way to dice a tomato.

The fish, as expected, was delicious. It was bound to taste better than it already looked, golden and crisp. The meal had one or two mouths drooling before Gon’s great-grandmother led grace. Mid-prayer, she slapped away Killua’s wandering fingers, her eyes closed in peaceful reverence.

All around the table, their voices overlapped above the grand display of food, kicking up old arguments or stories like whirlwinds and leaves. Gon was retelling a tale from Heaven’s Arena to his aunt who had seemed to have heard it countless times, Killua interrupting every now and then with anecdotes of what had actually happened. On the other side, Abe had convinced Leorio her arthritis was acting up, and that it was dire that he chop firewood in the morning, even though it was the middle of summer. Kurapika fell between the two spheres and stuffed his face throughout dinner to hide the little smile refusing to tame itself.

 

* * *

 

He stirred in his cot, waking to pinpricks running down the arm he had been sleeping on. The night was cool, but sweat beaded faithfully behind his neck. Even in the dark, Kurapika could parse the rise and fall of Leorio’s chest, could predict the rhythm like that of his own heartbeat.

Somewhere across the way, two young boys spoke in hush whispers in a world of their own making.

“Stupid,” Killua mumbled. “Don’t you know how long forever is?”

Gon’s reply didn’t survive the journey over the expanse of the bedroom. Kurapika turned towards the window, throat feeling thick. Tomorrow, he thought, could take its sweet time. Kurapika knew how long forever could last, and he let his eyes close to the memory of it.


End file.
